


To Cure a Broken Heart

by radishleaf



Series: The Fool, Reversed - Ezra Oneshots [2]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon, Spoilers, light spoilers for pre-canon stuff, things get a little steamy up in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 17:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19399039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radishleaf/pseuds/radishleaf
Summary: Julian's new apprentice, Locke, is the reticent-type. The doctor wonders for his well-being, but who knew simple curiosity could chance a cure for something broken.





	To Cure a Broken Heart

**Author's Note:**

> more arcana stoof. i wrote this simply because i wanted to write more makeouts. julian's a cutie. 
> 
> this could be considered a sequel to, 'a sweetness unlike any other', but you needn't have read it to understand the gist of this one.
> 
> as always, kindly disregard any grammatical errors, punctuation mistakes, and the like. i tried to be thorough. enjooooy.

Moans of pain, cries for help, vials of blood, leeches in jars, and so many notes and scribblings and thoughts of, “ _What is it? What is the cure?_ ”—it was simply another day in the life of Dr. Julian Devorak. The daily cycle of grasping at ideas only to end up at a crossroads had grown perfunctory at this point. Yet, Julian refused to give up. He knew he was close, inching closer by the days, and turning his back on the victims of the plague felt like utter betrayal. To doubt would be unforgiveable; whether from himself or others. He had to remain strong—he _had_ to.

However, putting his nose to the grindstone for forty-eight hours with only a smattering of naps here or there came up moot. The lack of good rest had finally caught up with him, so after passing on his leftover work to another doctor, Julian retired from his shift to actually sleep. Unfortunately, the number of available beds were limited; Julian even sacrificed the one in his own quarters for a particularly ailing man, content to use the floor instead. The pain of sleeping on hard surfaces hadn’t caught up with him until that very moment.

Julian groaned as every fiber of his being felt as stiff as a board. He wanted nothing more than to flop down onto one of the free beds he passed, but refused if only to leave one for another victim of the plague. He opted for the lounge area in the back of the clinic; quiet and rarely used, the creaky armchairs would serve as a satisfactory substitution for a bed. In his honest opinion, it was better than nothing.

Julian’s hand slipped onto the dusty armrest of a chair as he turned to settled down into it, but he was stopped with a start when he became aware of a body before him. Slumped forward onto the lone study desk in the lounge was Locke, the doctor’s newest apprentice. His head lay in to the crook of his arm; the off-kilter angle of his glasses catching the low light of the lantern beside him. Julian released an exhalation that hadn’t known he was holding. Even after months of working together, the doctor was still unfamiliar with the reticent man.

Frankly, Julian felt he had every right to be. Just as the plague reached its peak, offing more innocents than a wild man on a rampage, out of the blue arrived a nobly dressed magician by the name of Ezra Locke. He came with express wishes to assist in any way he could, and considering the limited number of volunteers and the mounting need for help, there was no way Julian could turn him down. He quickly took Locke under his wing, teaching him all he needed to know, and Locke took to it with surprising finesse.

Though Locke’s skillset and competence were the only things Julian learned of him. Anything related to his past or whereabouts were veiled in secrecy. There were many a time when the doctor’s thoughts wandered, curiously thinking about the enigma that is Ezra Locke, but entertaining more than that was impossible. After all, not once did Locke appear readily available to dish out his backstory—and considering how withdrawn he always was—probably never would.

 _To think he only ever looks vulnerable is when he sleeps_ , Julian noted as he studied Locke’s face. The thought quirked a smile on his lips. He thought it cute, in a way, like a cat warming up to a new owner. So much so, that Julian felt for him sleeping so uncomfortably. Even if he denied himself the comfort of a bed, he couldn’t do so with Locke. His apprentice deserved to sleep peacefully considering how seriously he took his duties.

“Locke,” Julian called out to him.

His voice was barely above a firm whisper, but when his apprentice showed no sign of hearing him, he said it louder. Still, Locke didn’t budge. Figuring him a very sound sleeper, Julian strode over to Locke’s side, and repeated his name again. And again. And again. And again—to no avail. Suddenly, panic flooded Julian’s chest as he mentally recalled all of the signs and symptoms related to the plague. He clapped a hand on Locke’s shoulder and shook him insistently, hoping to whatever heavenly being lay up in those clouds that his apprentice wasn’t another victim.

When Locke gave an undignified snort upon being woken up, Julian let out an exasperated sigh of relief. He backpedaled a step as his apprentice rose and shot him a sluggish glare. Julian said his name once more, and when Locke still didn’t heed him, he almost panicked again until Locke pulled at his earlobe. The doctor gave a blink when a glowing charm he had missed in his haste faded from behind his apprentice’s ear.

“Dr. Devorak,” Locke said where he finally had his wits about him. “What’s wrong? Are you in need of my help?”

Julian swallowed thickly and shook a dismissive hand. “No, no,” he said. He unceremoniously flopped into the armchair facing Locke, sagging into its depths. “I just, I just thought something had happened to you.”

Locke tiredly rubbed at his eye from beneath his glasses frame. “What do you mean?” he asked. “I’ve been here this entire time.”

“You weren’t answering me,” Julian said.

“Oh. That.” Locke yawned. “It’s a charm I use often. It deafens my ears, allowing for a soundless sleep. My apologies if I worried you.”

Julian wanted to retort that worry was an understatement, but thought against it. The only thing he wanted was sleep, but thanks to the recent surge of adrenaline, his mind found itself at odds with his body. Even if he physically wanted to rest, his mind had other plans. Yet, he hadn’t the energy to even be frustrated. Sighing, Julian looked to Locke. Despite his apprentice’s past reservations, this was a ripe moment to unearth more about him—if only to assuage Julian’s growing curiosity and a mild distraction away from his tiredness.

Fixing himself upright only to prop his head up with his hand, the doctor said, “Have you been a magician long?”

Locke gave pause at the doctor’s query. He studied Julian wearily, as if trying to eke out why the sudden curiosity and how much to reveal in one go. The doctor almost apologized for what he thought was interpreted as an intrusive question, but Locke began to speak before he could utter a word.

“Yes, since I was a child,” Locke said. “Being a magician was largely discouraged in my family, but the practice and use of magic was commonplace.”

Julian’s mouth hung agape, only to clamp shut again. He was likely exaggerating, but he couldn’t help but think that was the longest string of words he ever exchanged with the magician. The shock and awe were warranted, even if Locke appeared mildly miffed.

“That’s fascinating,” Julian said. “And unfortunate. Why was it discouraged?”

Whatever hesitance Julian sensed in Locke slowly dissipated. His tense shoulders eased as he gave the question some thought. Eventually, he said, “There was already enough rumors as it was with my commoner mother marrying my Vesuvian noble father. She didn’t want to drag our family name more through the mud.”

Julian winced. He was well-acquainted with the hoity-toity attitudes of the nobility. “She must’ve been a strong woman to put up with that kind of backlash.”

“She was. Especially when it was necessary for her to assimilate into Vesuvian culture.”

Something bright welled up within Julian. Though it took him quite a bit to jump the barrier, he was finally talking naturally with his apprentice. He honestly didn’t want to stop, so he made for another conversational quip: “Where was your mother from?”

“Milova.”

“Have you been?”

“Mm, no. I’ve never had much interest in traveling.”

Julian’s brows drew up. “Really?” he asked, surprised. “Yet, you traveled all of the way here to treat the plague? Hard to imagine you have _no_ interest in traveling!”

Just when the doctor thought he was progressing leaps and bounds with Locke, his apprentice withdrew. He pursed his lips and glanced aside, instantly signaling it was a touchy subject. Again, Julian attempted to apologize and shift the conversation in another direction, but Locke readily revealed himself without hesitation.

“It was a choice,” Locke said steadfastly. His eyes were steely behind his glasses. “I _chose_ to come here and lend my help to the plague. It wasn’t out of a fondness for traveling, Dr. Devorak.”

“M-my apologies,” Julian replied, slinking back. To be held by such a gaze churned his stomach uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean to insinuate anything.”

“It’s fine. I appreciate you not prying.”

“Though, may I be frank?” Julian leaned forward. “I actually want to pry.”

Locke cocked his head at him.

“Consider me callous, but I wonder about you sometimes, Locke.”

“Do you now?”

“Mm. You’re, you’re a mystery wrapped in an enigma. A capable man of many talents. You’re already an established magician, and from what I’ve seen, with proper training would make for a great doctor. I just wonder… What brought you here? _Why?_ ”

Julian knew he was taking a chance. He would either drive Locke away for good by asking such a direct question, or open up a path to quelling his curious mind. Whatever the case, Julian knew the risk, and knew the answer might not be as satisfying as he thought it to be. But what is a doctor without taking a chance?

Locke studied him for a long, long beat. He let out a slow sigh as he collected his thoughts, before saying to Julian’s surprise, “I’m running away from something.”

Julian’s lips drew to a small O. “Are you now?”

“Yes.”

“And may I ask… What that thing is?”

“It’s… a person. I’m running away from a person.”

“Let me guess—a lover?”

Julian made the claim in jest, even giving a small laugh, but when Locke tensed again, he knew he hit the nail right on the head. He suddenly flashed his palms innocently, saying, “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t really take that to be the case.”

Locke worried his bottom lip. “He wasn’t my lover,” he said.

“B-but there were feelings there?”

Locke gave a little nod. “Something like that, yes. I don’t know if it was love, but he meant a lot to me. During the height of the plague, we argued—he wanted to head for safer lands, I wanted to stay and help. W-we… went our separate ways when we couldn’t reach a consensus.”

Julian found himself at a loss for words. He wasn’t sure _what_ to say, so opted for reaching over and cupping his hand over Locke’s comfortingly. His apprentice jumped at the touch, completely unexpecting it.

“I can’t offer you much,” Julian said, “but to be here for you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Locke said, his eyes pinned to their two hands together. “I appreciate your support.”

Julian’s small smile to him was met with that gaze again. However, unlike before, his heart gave a rapid-fire flicker when he realized how his hand lingered atop Locke’s. Julian went to withdraw, but Locke insistently made him stay by clasping his hands about his fingers. Julian drew in a sharp breath, visibly flushing.

Locke considered the doctor’s fingers before looking to him. “You wonder about me, you said?” he said, voice dropping an octave. “What else do you wonder about, Dr. Devorak?”

Julian’s tongue suddenly felt very heavy. “I-I, ah, w-well…”

“You must think of me a lot to bring it up.”

“N-not all of the time, j-just—”

The corner of Locke’s lip quirked in a knowing smile. “Most of the time?”

Julian’s heart rocketed to his throat. That had to be the first time he saw his apprentice smile. It shocked him to his core, to the point he couldn’t find what to say _again_ for the umpteenth time. Instead, he remained still as Locke toyed with his hand, before working his way up the doctor’s forearm.

“It makes me happy to know you think about me,” Locke said. “I appreciate that as well. Especially when I’ve been… so lonely lately.”

Locke rose to his feet to lean over Julian. The doctor’s throat felt tight as he slumped back in the armchair; feeling small beneath the towering expanse of his apprentice. Not once did his eyes waver from Locke’s; completely taken by how his pupils were blown wide with _something_ —Julian couldn’t discern _what_.

“Dr. Devorak,” Locke said, but any reply Julian had was dashed aside when his apprentice ran a finger along his jaw. “Is this too much?”

“No,” Julian breathed. On the contrary, he felt as if his chest would split in two. This—whatever _this_ was—had escalated too quickly, _too_ suddenly, but something in him yearned for it not to stop.

“Then I can…?”

“ _Yes._ ”

He was incorrigible, he was insufferable, he was dramatic, he gave up and in too easily—Julian had heard it all from past lovers. He had shied away from entanglements as a result, but the distance had grown too wide. It was likely why he was so eager, so _hungry_ , to kiss Locke with everything he had. His apprentice had opted for something light, akin to a peck, but Julian caught his forearm and forced it deeper.

Locke gave a small whimper as the warm pliancy of Julian’s lips turned to something crushing. He only managed to steady the wobble of his knees by sliding a leg in beside Julian’s on the armchair. The two broke away momentarily as Locke righted himself, but then Julian caught the lapel of his shirt and pulled him back in. Locke flattened his hands on the back of the chair before settling in Julian’s lap; one hand brushing at the auburn curls near his ear.

“D-Dr. Devorak…”

“What spell is this?” Julian asked against his lips. “What spell did you cast on me to make me do this?”

“I… I-I didn’t—”

Locke’s claim went unremarked as Julian kissed him yet again. The doctor drew out their kisses longer, deeper still, until his apprentice was swept away by his rushing course. Julian swiped his tongue against Locke’s, conjuring a breathless moan, that he answered by surging forth into. Their hot, breathy kiss was broken when Locke pulled away, leaving a heady, panting Julian to his own devices for but a moment.

Though dissatisfied for the lack of initial contact, the doctor made do with Locke nosing the underside of his jaw, the length of his neck. His other hand had slipped to the doctor’s torso; prying the second button of his top loose to slide along the skin of his bare chest as if tracing lines on a map. When Locke’s lips met the juncture where neck met shoulder, he caught the skin between his teeth, making Julian hiss in a mix of pleasure-pain. His waist bucked slightly, the insistence of what was to follow evident when Locke glided his finger along the waistband of Julian’s trousers.

It was here Julian snapped to realization. Much to his chagrin, he caught Locke’s hand and drew it away, saying, “I know I’m a doctor, but I can’t cure a broken heart, Locke. That’s not my job.”

Locke pulled away to look at him. “Dr. Devorak…”

“I can’t be a substitute for the man you left behind.”

“I-I, I never—”

“I know.” Julian planted his hand on Locke’s chest and pushed him away. “I know you would never use me to replace him, but this is different. Your only remedy is time—not me. Not _this_.”

Locke dropped his head, ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “This was, this was cruel of me to do. Not only to you, but to the professional relationship we had. I’m sorry, Dr. Devorak. _I’m sorry_.”

Julian sighed. “It’s okay. I understand.” He watched as Locke completely withdrew himself before sitting up straight. “You— _we_ —should rest. There are beds out in the ward that are unoccupied. Feel free to use one.”

“But what about you?”

“I’m fine here, thank you.”

Locke’s lips parted to inquire further, but he thought against it once the answer was evident: They needed the distance, especially after what just happened. He bid Julian a nod before leaving the room. The doctor kept his eyes trained on the wall before him until he knew Locke was completely gone. Once to his own devices, he rebuttoned his top, and let out a long, long exhalation.

 _Gods that be, what had gotten into me?_ he thought. _What had gotten into_ us _?_


End file.
